


The Last Stand of the Golden Deer

by JCWasp



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Angst, Character Death, Epic Battles, Flashbacks, Minor Character Death, War
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-09
Updated: 2021-03-02
Packaged: 2021-03-08 18:21:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 5
Words: 17,426
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27471175
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JCWasp/pseuds/JCWasp
Summary: A re-imagining of the Empire's siege at Derdriu, as told through the eyes of the Golden Deer.
Relationships: Caspar von Bergliez/Hilda Valentine Goneril, Hilda Valentine Goneril/Claude von Riegan, Marianne von Edmund/Ignatz Victor, Marianne von Edmund/Lorenz Hellman Gloucester
Comments: 22
Kudos: 30





	1. The Roundtable Conference

**MARIANNE**

The streets of Derdriu were alive.

At every corner, grinning men and women walked on air, laughing and bartering and taking long bows to show off their extravagant jewels and flowing silk gowns.

And at every corner, Marianne von Edmund felt their stares. Their looks of reverence, apprehension and fear — but not directed to her, or to the small group of officials and advisers traveling with her. 

Their gaze was aimed at the imposing man walking beside her: Margrave Caius von Edmund.

He was not the tallest person walking the streets today, but he seemed to tower above the crowd. This was a self-made man, whose ambition and brilliant trade policies turned House Edmund into one of the most powerful forces of the Leicester Alliance.

He laid a strong but tender hand on Marianne’s shoulder. Just his touch was enough to make her stand taller.

“The people are so carefree,” the Margrave muttered. “You’d never know there’s a war going on. Or that we’re losing.”

Marianne turned her head to face her adoptive father. “But... we’re not losing. You don’t know Claude.”

The Margrave was taken aback. So was Marianne, though she tried not to show it.

Marianne smiled to herself. _I really have gained confidence._

Her adoptive father looked back at her with a piercing but proud gaze. “So you say. But he has much to answer for.”

Before them stood the great hall of House Riegan, the crown jewel of Derdriu, the seat of power for the Alliance’s leading family. Its grand spires stretched high into the sky. Marianne had heard whispers of the great hall’s magnificence, but seeing it in person took her breath away. 

_It’s as if they can touch the clouds._

This was also the home of the Alliance’s annual Roundtable Conference, when the five Great Houses came together. Here, decisions were made by majority vote without heeding an Emperor or King.

But this was a different Roundtable Conference. It was a surprise session — an emergency one. It was not called by House Riegan, but by the other four: Ordelia, Goneril, Gloucester, and Edmund.

As the Edmund delegation approached the hall’s enormous golden door, the Margrave stopped suddenly. Marianne stumbled, but steadied her balance — embarrassing herself again, how could she be so useless — and looked to see what caught her adoptive father’s eye.

A thin man with a long handlebar mustache, sitting proudly atop a hulking black horse, strode toward the hall.

Marianne frowned. _That poor horse, being used just for show._

The man barked orders to his gaggle of attendants. At his side — oh! There was Lorenz.

Marianne smiled sheepishly in his direction, but Lorenz looked past her.

_Oh, he must not see me._

Count Remus Gloucester had arrived. He and the Margrave locked eyes from a distance, glaring at one another.

Marianne’s mind began to wander.

***

Why was Dorte so restless?

Marianne stroked the back of Dorte the horse as gently as she could. Her friend gave her a pained look and let out a groan.

“You poor thing. I hope we can find out what’s wrong.”

The horse bowed its head and whinnied meekly.

“Professor Manuela should be by soon with your herbs. We’ll do what we can for you. I promise.”

A cough in the background. Marianne jumped, startled.

It was Lorenz. What was he doing here? Marianne began to panic.

But he smiled at her. “Marianne. I thought you would like to join me for tea.”

Marianne shifted her feet and looked to the ground. “Um, well, I’m looking after Dorte.”

Lorenz chuckled. “I know. I know you’d never leave that horse friend of yours while she’s sick.”

He unfurled a blanket. “So, if you don’t mind, I brought the tea to you.”

Marianne’s heart pounded in her chest. _Why is he being so nice to me? I’m so worthless, I could barely hold my own in the mock battle, everyone should just stay away —_

Dorte bent her nose and gave Marianne a nudge in Lorenz’s direction. Marianne fixed her gaze on the ground and slowly took a few steps toward him. She quickly sat on the blanket.

Lorenz laughed and grinned as he lay out a tea set. “Some Lavender tea, just for us.”

Marianne’s eyes lit up for a moment, but she continued to avert her gaze.

Lorenz sat back, relaxed, and poured himself a cup. “Now, Marianne. Please. I’ve been trying to get you to talk to me. For once, I want to hear what you have to say. We all do. I would expect the adopted daughter of Margrave Edmund to have many thoughts worth hearing on the future of Alliance.”

Marianne sat in silence. _Do people want to hear what I have to say? Impossible—_

“I — well…” No. She hushed herself.

Lorenz sat for a moment. Why? What could she possibly say that was so interesting?

“Would you like me to leave?” he asked her.

But this time, she couldn’t bring herself to say yes. “Well, no.”

He sighed. “Very well. Then let’s enjoy our tea in silence, shall we? We can keep Dorte company.”

Marianne nodded nervously as she gently lifted her teacup. Her hand began to tremble. Lorenz did not say a word, just sipped on his tea and waited peacefully and patiently for her to relax —

***

“Come, Marianne.”

She snapped back into the moment. The Margrave motioned to the great hall’s door.

“Let’s get this over with.”

Marianne nodded and followed him toward the hall. She looked back at Lorenz, deep in conversation with an attendant. He still didn’t notice her.

Her gut sank. She turned back to the Margrave and followed him into the cavernous hall.

**LYSITHEA**

Another stupid meeting. Lysithea had had enough of these.

If only these stuffy nobles would listen to her. If only her father could stop being such a people-pleaser.

If only Claude had… ugh!

She stomped angrily through the corridor.

She could see their faces again.

The steely resolve in her comrades as Claude gave the order.

The shock and horror in the eyes of Empire troops as her battalion charged toward them.

_What must Edelgard think of me now?_

Shadows and masked figures entered her mind — she shoved the memories away. She had made her choices. She must keep going.

Her outburst had embarrassed her father again, in front of the Great Houses, no less. But what did she care? Nobility is not something she asked for, not something she wanted, something that had only brought her pain —

_No. Push it away._

Lysithea stole herself, took a deep breath, and opened the door.

She entered the cavernous room that housed the Round Table itself and slammed the door behind her.

She felt the eyes of everyone in the room staring at her as she entered. Around the table sat the delegations from each of the five great Houses. There was Margrave Edmund with Marianne and his robed attendants. To his right, the stocky and muscular Gonerils: Duke Johannes, his son Holst, and of course, Hilda. 

And then there was Count Gloucester. He smirked and sarcastically stretched his hand out to welcome Lysithea back in the room. Lysithea turned her nose up at him as Lorenz sat at his side, oddly still. 

Claude sat in the largest chair in the room, the chair of the Duke Riegan, bejeweled and decorated with golden antlers. He wore that porcelain smile Lysithea had come to know so well. Ever-relaxed, ever in control. He sat alone, save for his trusted advisor — Judith von Daphnel.

Lysithea took her place beside her father, Count Lear Ordelia. His kind face was lined and weary. He looked visibly older every time she saw him. Just another reminder of how little time she has left —

_No. Snap out of it._

The few Ordelia attendants regarded Lysithea with disdain as she took her seat. Duke Goneril cleared his throat and continued an impassioned speech. 

“As I was saying, I can understand the apprehension at this table. But we must remain steadfast. We’ve held off those Almyran dogs for generations, and if that wench of an Emperor comes knocking, we’ll knock her down too.”

He punctuated his speech by slamming his fist on the table. Hilda toyed with her hair, embarrassed. Holst said nothing. He was deep in thought.

Count Gloucester spoke next. “My dear friend Duke Goneril, I do appreciate your cavalier attitude, but I must caution against underestimating her.”

He looked pointedly at Claude. “I believe Duke Riegan has already made this mistake, no?”

Count Ordelia stirred. “I believe, Remus, that the good Duke Riegan has done what he believes is best. He has never sought to steer us awry.”

Lysithea grumbled to herself. Here he was, her father, overly-diplomatic as ever. He put a careful hand on her arm. He could sense her frustration.

Count Gloucester gave Count Ordelia a long stare. “Those are odd words coming from you. House Ordelia wants the same thing we do—“

Count Ordelia immediately shot back. “What I want is to give Duke Riegan the chance to speak.”

He looked to Claude. “I don’t doubt your intentions. But I gave you our fighters — and my only daughter. Count Gloucester gave you his forces. You promised us you were reinforcing the Empire at Garreg Mach. Instead you put us all at risk. I’ve had enough of this Conference scolding you. I want to know why you misled us. I want to know what you have up your sleeve. I want to know if I can trust your word ever again.”

Lysithea watched her father with begrudging respect. This is what she had been waiting for.

All eyes turned to Claude. He did not even flinch as he responded. “My Lords, we are in a battle for the future of this continent. Not just the Alliance. Not just the Empire. But for all of Fódlan.”

Count Gloucester seethed. “You think we don’t know that, boy? That’s precisely why we support the Empire —“

Judith stared down the Count. “I would advise you to speak more respectfully to Duke Riegan.”

Count Gloucester laughed at her and sneered. “Bold words from the once-great House Daphnel.“ 

_Yuck. And to think I share a crest with such a cretin._

“Enough!” Margrave Edmund’s voice boomed and echoed through the entire room. “Let Duke Riegan finish.”

Claude gave the Margrave a curt nod. “My Lords. Anyone who looks at this war as something to be survived is making a serious error. This is not a calamity. It’s an opportunity.”

He looked around the table, taking the time to lock eyes with each person in attendance.

_Smart move. Convincing the advisors is just as valuable as convincing the Lords._

“There’s a greater prize at stake than the position of your own House. We have a chance to rewrite history with the Alliance front and center. Imagine it. No longer would we worry about being swept up in the squabbles of the Empire, or the unrest in the Kingdom. We would not have to beg for aid to protect Fódlan’s Locket. The entire continent would not answer to an Emperor or a King — but Riegan, Gloucester, Edmund, Goneril and Ordelia.”

Duke Goneril was drawn in, enraptured by every word. By his side, Holst smiled. The other nobles listened carefully, pondering, as Claude continued. “It’s true, I promised you I would aid the Empire at Garreg Mach. That may have even been my intention. But I saw an opportunity to end this war with the Alliance standing alone. That is far too valuable of an opportunity to waste. And I promise you, that opportunity has not vanished. It is here, still ours for the taking.”

Count Gloucester spoke up, with more care and respect than before. “And how is it ours for the taking? She will not let your insult go unanswered.”

Margrave Edmund nodded. “What is your plan, Duke Riegan?”

Claude looked deep into the Margrave’s eyes. “Margrave Edmund, I need you to trust me. I always have a plan. I wouldn’t have made my move without contingencies in place already.”

Marianne nodded and looked to her adoptive father. “Please, I know you can rely on him.”

Lysithea crossed her arms. _I hate to admit it, but she’s right._

Margrave Edmund sat thoughtfully for a few moments. All eyes on him. But it was Count Ordelia who spoke first. “And whatever these contingencies are, Duke Riegan, can you not share them with us?”

Before Claude could answer, Holst rose up, his mighty frame dominating the room. “My Lords, you have always given me your trust. It is House Goneril that safeguards the Leicester Alliance — and all of Fódlan from those barbarians to the East. I tell you now where my faith lies.”

He pointed to Claude. “It’s with this man here. I give you my word, Claude, House Goneril will back you with all of our might. Let Edelgard come. She has yet to see how Leicester men defend our lands. I urge all of you to stand strong with us, arm in arm, as our families have done for generations.”

Lysithea tapped her finger on the table. _It’s a strong endorsement. But it’s not unexpected. Let’s see who’s moved by it._

Her father hesitated, thinking carefully. Count Gloucester began to whisper with his advisors.

Claude seized his opportunity. “Centuries ago, our forefathers created this Alliance to fulfill their dream of freedom and independence — of a world without Kings or Emperors, where we could determine our own destinies, and create a thriving and prosperous nation for all of our citizens. I ask you, why must you fear any king? Our ancestors did not. Have we let their spirit die out? Are we too busy squabbling and jockeying among one another that we’ve forgotten the power we hold when we stand together? I promise you, we will win this fight. I reach out my hand to you in fellowship. Stand with me — and we will have our day in the sun.”

The room was silent as his words echoed through the chamber.

Lysithea held her breath. _Could this be it?_

Count Ordelia looked to Lysithea. She nodded. _You can depend on him, father._

But then Margrave Edmund rose to his feet. “Lord Holst, no one here denies your valor or your bravery. And Duke Riegan, your reputation for cunning precedes you. But you have much to learn about leading this Alliance. My forebears were kept underfoot by the Riegans and Daphnels of the world for as long as the Alliance has existed, and before that, longer still. There was a time when I thought you showed the potential to be a great leader of men and women, but that time has passed. It passed the moment that you took advantage of Count Ordelia and Count Gloucester.”

Holst bellowed, red-faced. “Took advantage? You dare accuse Duke Riegan of —“

Margrave Edmund waved him off, the power of his oratory taking hold of the chamber. “You don’t need to play this game, Holst. You support the Church of Seiros in this fight. Claude knows it. We all do. This boy cut a deal with you. He let you in on the plan to betray the Emperor at Garreg Mach. Wipe out the Empire in one move, make peace with the Kingdom and the Alliance gets the spoils. It was a bold move, Claude, but you lost. You underestimated her. And you underestimate the rest of us yet again.”

He continued. “This Alliance is built on trust. Even after what you’ve done, Count Ordelia comes before you with an open mind and an open heart, and you not only spit in his face with your petty secrecy, you spit in the faces of us all. And I shall not dignify it any longer. When you need House Edmund’s aid you will not have it. We are done here.”

The Edmund delegation rose. Marianne looked at her father, begging him to reconsider, but he did not acknowledge her. He scoffed at Claude. “The Master Tactician indeed. Farewell.” 

Margrave Edmund turned to exit the chamber. Marianne followed her father and his advisors out the door, pleading.

Count Gloucester laughed. “See what you’ve wrought, boy? You betray my confidence and you won’t get it back. Good luck with your war.”

Duke Goneril let out a shout and moved to strike Count Gloucester. Hilda and Holst leapt to their feet to hold him back. He roared after the departing Gloucester delegation. “He never had your damn confidence to begin with! Only in it for yourselves, the lot of you! No spine, no honor. Rot in hell!”

Count Ordelia sat silently watching the scene before him, the Goneril and Gloucester delegations shouting each other down. He turned to Lysithea. “I know you trust him, my daughter. But please. Do not ask me to go through with this. I cannot put more of my people at risk. I cannot lose them. I cannot lose you. Not again…”

Tears welled in Lysithea’s eyes. She loved this man with all her heart. He was still haunted by his failures, so many years later — even more than she was. “I know, father. I won’t. But I’m staying.”

He nodded. “I know better than to try and talk you out of this.”

He embraced her. They locked eyes, breathing in what they knew might be their final moment together. Another tearful goodbye. She knew she had to make it last.

“I’ll make you proud, father.”

The last of the Gloucester delegation exited the room, the Gonerils still seething.

Count Ordelia let go of Lysithea and bowed to Claude. “My Lord. I wish you well. But House Ordelia will be withdrawing its troops from Derdriu.”

Claude nodded. “I understand, Count Ordelia. I hope you will reconsider. We will see each other again.”

_He’s still so relaxed. He really must have a plan._

Count Ordelia bowed again. “I hope you are right, Claude von Riegan.”

He and his attendants left the chamber. The Gonerils followed.

Lysithea stood still, downcast. Why did she have to say goodbye to her father yet again? She trusted Claude, admired him even. That’s why she was here. That’s why she made the choices she did.

But damn, he made it hard sometimes.

Claude stayed seated, his elbows on the table and hands clasped in front of him.

Judith sighed. “Well, it’s about what we expected.”

Claude nodded and rose from his seat, raising his arms above his head and stretching. “It was worth a shot,” he said nonchalantly.

Lysithea sighed. “I’m with you, Claude, but whatever your plan is, it had better be good.”

Claude smirked. “No need to worry, Lysithea. Contingencies. And contingencies for contingencies. You know how I operate. Everything’s going to be just fine.”

He winked at her. She glared back. “Don’t make me regret this.”

**MARIANNE**

The Derdriu sunsets were so beautiful.

Marianne stood alone on the city’s battlements, overlooking the vast forest that led to the gates of the Aquatic Capital.

She wrapped herself in a shawl as an evening chill filled the air.

 _Why wouldn’t he listen to me?_ _Why would he forsake my friends?_

“Marianne.”

She turned to see Margrave Edmund approach her carefully. He wore a soft, apologetic smile.

Marianne couldn’t bear to look at him. She turned away, fixing her gaze on the horizon.

He spoke to her, gentle but firm. “I don’t expect you to agree with every decision I make. But I do expect you to understand them.”

She did not acknowledge him as he continued. “Trust goes both ways. A man can make mistakes. He can fail to deliver on his promises. But you must never let a man openly deceive you. I cannot put the future of House Edmund on the line for someone who views us as a mere tool for his own grand ambitions.”

Marianne’s head dropped. His words stung. But they rang true. 

“I hope you will never live your life that way, Marianne. I pray that you will find a way to carry yourself with pride. You are an Edmund. You are my daughter. And you must never, ever allow yourself to be manipulated."

He paused for a moment. Marianne could feel him watching her, regarding her, taking in the woman that she had become since she left his House for Garreg Mach.

Finally, after a long silence, he spoke. “I suspect you intend to stay here.”

She turned to face him. “I shall. I will not abandon him. And I won’t abandon my friends.”

Her adoptive father nodded. “I understand. Then it’s time for you to have this.”

He reached beneath his cloak. Marianne gasped as she spotted a glint of gold. Could it be —

Margrave Edmund drew the ancient sword Blutgang. Her birth father had always spoken of the legendary blade, the sword that only his bloodline could wield, but it had been lost to the ages. 

The curved, toothed scimitar hissed through the air as he flourished it in front of him before presenting it to her.

She reached out her hands and grasped the hilt.

_Can it really be mine? Do I deserve this?_

She looked at him with wonder. “How did you find it?”

Margrave Edmund ignored the question. He leaned forward and looked her in the eyes, his face a mix of fear, desperation, and the iron will of a father and a ruthless politician. “Marianne. Survive. Live. That is all I can ask you to do.”

She nodded.

She thought she caught the glimpse of a tear forming in his eyes, but before she could be sure, he turned and walked briskly down the battlements as the final rays of sunlight gave way to the night of the Guardian Moon.

She watched her adoptive father disappear from her view.

His final words echoed loudly in her memory.

_Survive._

She gazed at Blutgang.

_Survive._

Yes. That’s what she would do. With this sword and her friends at her side, she could make it through anything the world — or the Empire – threw at her.

_Please, Goddess… Forgive him._


	2. A Dance in the Dark

**CLAUDE**

Claude soared over the city. His wyvern roared and whistled its approval as they banked left and right, maneuvering through the skies, untethered to the ground below or the demands of being Duke Riegan.

He wore a genuine smile on his face. _This is where I’m free, where the world is mine._

He glanced down at the citizens of Derdriu, still bustling about their lives, but with newfound caution. They all knew the invasion was coming, and the Alliance troops were preparing for it.

He peered at the towers under construction throughout the city. _Good. The ballistae are coming along nicely._

He turned his head eastward, over the water, along the coast, in the direction of Edmund lands. Those foolish old nobles like the Margrave were selling him short.

But he had expected it. He always knew he was running a risk when he gave the order to attack Edelgard’s forces.

He caught them unaware. His scheme unfolded perfectly. But that daft fool Dimitri never did catch on. If his army had arrived on time…

He sighed. The Empire was powerful and growing stronger by the day.

Claude hurtled his wyvern toward the ground, corkscrewing through the air —

_But I’m always at my best when I’m backed into a corner._

***

Claude braced himself — he threw his arms up to stop the fists that rained down upon him.

“Go back to Fódlan! Go home with your mommy!”

He wanted to cry out as the two older boys loomed over him, laughing, beating him over and over — but he knew it would make them hit harder.

_Why do they treat me like this?_

He desperately looked left and right, for anyone, any sign of help —

But nobody came.

It was hours later. He clung to the enormous hand of the strong man standing beside him. Before him stood his mother and father. Their looks of disapproval shook him. He looked to the ground. _Is this all my fault?_

He heard his father’s voice. “Khalid, you must do better. You must learn to fight for yourself.”

And then his mother. “You are my son. And my son does not let himself get pushed around. My son always finds a way to win.”

Claude let out a light sob. His parents were stone-faced.

His mother spoke again. “You will have to get used to this kind of treatment. Nothing is given here, especially for someone with Fódlan blood. They will hate you for it, but it does not make them better than you. You have much to learn. Away with you.”

His father nodded. The strong man led Claude away. He sobbed, the tears streaming down his cheeks.

_Why won’t anyone help me?_

***

Claude held on tight as the wyvern shot toward the city streets. He could hear the startled cries of pedestrians. They didn’t understand. He’d shock them. He’d make them all see —

An instant before it collided into the ground, his wyvern changed direction sharply, zipping skyward. It let out a roar as it soared back into the air above Derdriu. The people gawked, with some breaking into a smattering of applause. Claude smirked and waved to them.

_They have no idea what I have in store._

**LEONIE**

Leonie shut her eyes as her horse galloped through the dense forest. She was used to riding in the woods. It’s all she did growing up, and she had the cuts and bruises to show for it.

War was coming to Derdriu’s doorstep, but she had to put it out of her mind.

She could feel the light of the Guardian Moon shining on her, the wind whipping the horse’s mane into her face. For now, this was bliss.

But she had a job to do. Claude was counting on her. The city was counting on her.

Her village was counting on her.

They sent her to Garreg Mach to be a hero, a great mercenary who could defend the common folk from danger when the nobles could not be bothered. This was her time to repay them. They were on Gloucester land, and their Lord was supporting the Empire — but how could she be sure the violence wouldn’t reach them?

Edelgard wasn’t known for being merciful. Leonie narrowed her eyes. _She turned on us first._

Standing atop the battlements of Garreg Mach five years ago, she watched the Imperial Army march on a center of learning and religion in open war. The memory made her stomach turn.

_So many have died since. And for what? Some argument she had with Lady Rhea?_

Whatever her reasons, Edelgard had plunged Fódlan into chaos. Leonie could not understand. She fought to protect people, not to cause this kind of turmoil, turning friend against friend — and so many had died...

And now, the nobles had abandoned Derdriu in their hour of need. How typical.

Leonie took a deep breath and sighed. She focused again on the sound of her horse galloping through the woods; his ears pressed back, the twigs snapping under his hooves — riding a horse like this, she almost felt like she could fly —

Before she knew it, she had arrived.

This clearing was the meeting spot; she was sure of it.

She smiled. Yes, there was the sign she was looking for. She could make it out in the moonlight — a spider drawn on a piece of parchment, stuck to a tree with an arrow.

“You can come out, now, Shamir.”

From the shadows emerged her old friend and mentor.

After all these years, Leonie was still in awe of her. The graceful silence of her movements, the striking power she always projected —

But Leonie caught herself. Something was different.

Shamir was frightened.

The Dagdan mercenary forced a slight smile. “Leonie. You made it.”

Leonie nodded. “It’s really good to see you. How many years has it been?”

Shamir shook her head. “Too many. It doesn’t matter.”

Leonie eyed her carefully. “Something tells me I’m about to get some bad news.”

Yes. That was obvious. Shamir’s face was ashen, bereft of its usual relaxed confidence. Not a good sign.

Shamir nodded toward the bag hanging from Leonie’s horse. Her payment. Leonie grabbed it and tossed the bag of gold to her. Shamir caught it with one hand and slipped it into her cloak before addressing Leonie.

“I’ve been tracking the Imperial Army longer than anyone else. I’ve never seen them mobilize like this. It’s not some half-hearted revenge play by the Emperor. She’s bringing the full might of Adrestia to Derdriu. They crossed the Bridge of Myrrdin yesterday. I hope you’re ready.”

A chill ran down Leonie’s spine. She had gladly followed Claude’s lead to turn on Edelgard at Garreg Mach — they all had — but for the first time, she felt a creeping doubt. _Could Claude have really brought this upon us?_

But she could not falter, not now. Not in front of her mentor. “We are, Shamir. Claude is —”

Shamir cut her off. “The Master Tactician, yes. Tell me, did he give himself that title? I hope he lives up to it. Leonie, I’ll be frank. I’ve been on the other end of an Imperial siege. If I were in your position, I’d pack it in now. Your life isn’t worth this.”

Leonie was stunned. Shamir never talked like this. She was pleading with her, in her own way —

Shamir reached out her hand. “Please. You can leave with me tonight. I could use a new partner.”

Leonie felt a tinge of temptation. The mercenary life is what she had always wanted. But she owed Claude. She owed all of her friends — she couldn’t leave them. Not now. “Thank you. But you know I can’t do that. When the war is over, we can talk.”

Shamir nodded, a grim and strained look on her face. “Very well.” 

She tossed a scroll to Leonie. “Here are the details on their movements and deployment.”

Leonie nodded. Shamir took a long look at her before bidding her farewell. “Be careful.”

The Dagdan faded back into the shadows.

Leonie stood in the clearing, a gust of wind blowing past her. She had never felt more alone.

**MARIANNE**

Marianne tugged her shawl tighter, hoping for some extra warmth in the cold evening air **.**

She could already hear the music and the laughter — her destination was nearby. She did not often visit taverns, but these were not normal times. 

She took a few steps toward the door. _It will be nice to see my friends._ But her mind began to race, an all-too-familiar script running through her head. _What will everyone think of me? What if I’m too nervous to speak? Will anyone like me?_

The pangs of anxiety began to spike. Her heart beat faster and faster. She took a deep breath. _No. You’re stronger than this._ _Just keep moving._

That’s what Lorenz had told her. _You have to keep moving when the fear comes. Just one foot in front of the other. And then..._

She opened the door, the warm air hitting her like a crashing wave. It was a lively night, a sea of men and women laughing, dancing, and drinking. They needed an escape.

Marianne’s eyes scanned the room. _They shouldn’t be hard to find._

A familiar, sassy voice reached her ears. “I mean, really, the audacity of an Alliance noble like Count Ordelia to just leave us behind. Who does he think he is?”

A squeaky voice yelled out a response. “You have a lot of nerve, saying that in front of me!”

And then she saw it — Raphael’s hulking figure, sheepishly scratching his head as Hilda and Lysithea glared at each other, empty mugs around them. Ignatz was there, too, in the middle of sipping his drink. Marianne smiled and gave him a small wave. Ignatz’s eyes grew wide, and he nearly dropped his mug — but he managed to wave back.

Raphael saw Ignatz’s wave and turned toward her, a huge grin on his face. “Hey, Marianne!”

He leaped to his feet and bounded toward her, arms outstretched. Marianne winced. _I wish he wouldn’t do this._ Before she knew it, she was wrapped in his burly arms, squeezed in a bear hug.

“Oh, um, hi Raphael,” she said, muffled by his embrace.

He shouted with joy. “It’s so good to see you!” She could not help but smile.

He led her to their table. Lysithea stared angrily into her mug of mead. Hilda sat with her arms crossed, looking away. Marianne took a seat next to Raphael. Ignatz blushed when she sat down.

They all sat in silence. Raphael looked from person to person, his face pleading for someone to break the tension.

Lysithea stirred. “Hello, Marianne,” she muttered.

“Um, hello, Lysithea.” Marianne looked expectantly at Hilda. “And you too, Hilda.”

Hilda shot her a quick glance. “Hi.”

Marianne winced. _I thought Hilda liked me…_ And she couldn’t help but notice an absence from the makeshift class reunion.

She looked around. “Is Lorenz here?”

A look of disgust appeared on Hilda’s face. “Lorenz? Of course not. He left with his father and the rest of the Gloucester troops.”

Marianne was downcast. “Oh. I thought he might stay. Or at least say hello to me.”

Ignatz interjected. “But we’re here, Marianne. And we’re glad to be here with you. It’s just like old times, right?” He laughed awkwardly.

Hilda pouted. “Ah, yes, old times. When we would stick together and _help_ each other in our time of need. You’re right, Ignatz. Great observation.”

Marianne saw Lysithea’s face twitch. _Oh no..._ She knew what was coming.

Lysithea exploded. “How dare you! You spent your whole life pampered and spoiled! Well, some of us have suffered more than you could ever imagine. Where were the Gonerils when the Empire came for us? Do you have any idea what we endured while you sat in your fortress and did nothing?” 

She turned sharply to Marianne. “That’s what your adoptive father did, too. Nothing!”

Lysithea slammed her mug on the table, flush with rage. She shot to her feet and hurried away. Raphael got up and went after her. “Wait, Lysithea, we’re supposed to be having fun! Come on —”

Hilda stewed in her seat. Marianne felt herself sink. _Maybe I shouldn’t have come after all. I just made things worse…_

Ignatz gave her a reassuring smile. “It’s not your fault, Marianne. They just had too much to drink. We can still enjoy this night.”

He looked accusingly at Hilda. “Right?”

Marianne felt comforted by his words. Raphael returned alone and gave them a shrug. He shook his head and looked at Hilda. “Come on, Hilda, why’d you have to go and say something like that?” Hilda rolled her eyes, let out a sigh, and rose to her feet. “Alright,” she said. “Give me a minute.”

Raphael plopped down next to Marianne. His heavy frame shook the table, rocking her and Ignatz. He grabbed a mug of mead. “I don’t understand what everyone’s so mad about. We’re together again!”

He lifted his mug to make a toast. Ignatz followed suit, a pained look on his face, while Marianne tenderly lifted the closest mug.

Raphael beamed. “To the Golden Deer!”

They clinked their drinks together. Raphael chugged while Ignatz took a few sips. Marianne pretended to take a sip and gently placed hers back on the table. _They won’t notice, anyway._

Raphael wiped his face with his arm and turned to Marianne. “So, you decided to stay behind? Even though your old man left?”

Marianne nodded. “Yes. I’m staying. I can’t leave you all behind.”

Raphael sighed and stared blankly ahead. Marianne was not used to seeing him look so serious. “I feel the same,” he said quietly. “I hope I’m making the right choice. My sis needs me, but so does the Alliance.”

He paused, searching for the right words. “I just hope I’m not about to go out like my parents.”

Ignatz looked ill. Before he could speak, Raphael turned to him. “Don’t say anything, Ig. We’ve been over this. It wasn’t your fault. It wasn’t anyone’s fault. It’s just what happened.”

Ignatz took a deep breath and nodded back at Raphael. “You’re right. But I promise, Raphael. I’ll have your back.” He now looked to Marianne. She caught her breath for a moment. _The way he’s looking at me… It’s like that time he showed me the sunset…_

“And I promise you, Marianne. I will not let anything happen to you. If things go badly out there, just look for me. I’ll be there for you.”

She was grateful. But she was confused. She could only sit in silence. _That’s the way Lorenz used to speak to me…_

After a moment, Ignatz awkwardly cleared his throat and leaned back in his chair. “Well, uh, shall we get another round?”

Before she could respond, Hilda returned, arm-in-arm with Lysithea. Hilda beamed at her friends. “Ok, everyone, we’re sorry. Just got a little carried away.”

Lysithea sighed. “Yes. I’m sorry, everyone. And I’m sorry for insulting your adoptive father, Marianne.”

Marianne smiled at her friend. “It’s ok. We’re all feeling a little tense right now.”

Raphael chimed in. “Well, come on, another round, then!”

***

Marianne smiled and clapped along to the music while Hilda danced with a strapping young Derdriu man. Raphael showed his muscles off to a group of women in the corner — were they blushing, or had they just had too much to drink?

Lysithea sat next to her. She always had a lot on her mind, but she seemed more distant than usual, lost in thought and endless calculations. Marianne glanced at her friend. _I hope she’s okay. Maybe I should say something._

Before she could, it was Lysithea who turned toward her. She looked tense, desperate, even. “Marianne, why are you really staying?”  
  
The question caught her off guard. Lysithea always did cut to the chase. Marianne tried to find a clear answer — as much as she loved her friends, there was only one person who came to mind. “I trust Claude. And I owe him.”

Lysithea nodded. She understood.

Raphael bounded over, a bit unsteady on his feet after so many drinks. “Did I hear you say Claude?”

His voice boomed throughout the half-empty tavern, catching the attention of everyone present. “Everyone, let me tell you about the best guy in the whole Alliance — Claude von Riegan!”

The crowd laughed and cheered. Emboldened, Raphael continued. “I tell ya what, five years ago at the monastery, when I had never seen a real battle before — I thought I was a goner. They had us cornered at the gate…”  
  
He looked around the hall, pointing to Lysithea, Hilda, Ignatz, and Marianne.

Yes, Marianne remembered.

***

Fire rained from the sky. The smell of sulfur and smoke filled the air—an explosion to their left. Marianne coughed, ash raining on the huddled group of classmates.

Through the smoke, she could hear the onslaught of footsteps coming their way — the metal clanging of armor as the Empire forces approached. So, this was it. This was how she would die. _It’s all my fault_. _This cursed crest is about to kill my friends, too_. _I tried to warn them, I should have run away..._

She could hear Raphael whisper a tearful prayer to the Goddess to look after his sister — Hilda's sobs, Ignatz's attempts to comfort her even as he shook with panic — she felt Lorenz grab her hand — maybe for the last time —

It was Leonie’s voice that brought her back. Raspy and gravelly from the ash, she let out a battle cry and lifted her spear. “Let them come! They’ve never seen me with my back against the wall. I’ll make them pay for this!”

The Golden Deer looked to one another and raised their weapons. Marianne gripped her sword so tightly she could feel the blood drain from her hands. The smoke cleared; she could see the sea of lances and the red banner of Adrestia surging toward them —

And then a wyvern’s screech from above.

It was Claude. He descended from the sky atop the winged beast, a battalion of Seiros Pegasus Knights behind him. They launched a volley of arrows at their foes. To her right a bloodcurdling roar — Dimitri. He charged out of the trees beside Felix and Alois, leading the Knights of Seiros into the fray. He was possessed with fury...

To this day she still felt guilty for feeling such a rush of joy and relief at the sight of so many fallen Empire soldiers. But she was alive. They were all alive. Because of Claude.

***

“I didn’t even know he could ride a wyvern, and I still don’t know how he broke into the aerie, but every day I’m damn glad that he did. To Claude von Riegan!” Raphael bellowed and raised his mug.

Hilda pushed her dance partner to the ground and rushed to join Raphael in the center of the crowd, gushing. She grabbed a mug and shot her arm into the air. “To Claude!” 

The assembled men and women cheered, raising their glasses for a toast. “To Claude! To House Riegan! To the Alliance!”

Hilda raised her arms above her head over and over, encouraging the crowd to yell louder. She screamed with all her might. “With Claude, we can’t lose! Not to the Empire, not to anybody!”

Marianne found herself laughing — it had been too long since she enjoyed life like this. Ignatz moved beside her.. He was laughing too, and smiling. At her. Marianne felt his gentle hand on her arm. Her heart raced as he pulled her close — she caught a glimpse of Lysithea, the only one still seated, ignoring the festivities — Ignatz put his arms around her — it felt nice. She caressed his face —

A shout from beside them startled Marianne. “Shut the bloody door, you’re lettin’ the cold in!”

She turned to see what was happening. Leonie stood in front of the wide-open door, disheveled and rattled. They expected her to return in time to join them — Leonie would never be late for drinks, after all — but her face was as pale as the moonlight...

Gusts of cold wind blew into the hall as Leonie stepped forward. The mood turned more dour as each reveler noticed her.

She lurched forward and collapsed into a seat. Hilda raced toward her. “Leonie, are you okay?”

Leonie didn’t answer. Hilda put her hands on her friend’s shoulders, looking into her eyes. “Leonie, I need you to tell me what’s going on. What did you see?”

Leonie blinked and slowly pulled a scroll from her cloak. She held it toward Hilda.

Her next words sent a chill through Marianne. “You’re going to want to read this.”


	3. The Empire Arrives

**LYSITHEA**

Lysithea shivered in the cold morning breeze. It was only a matter of time now.

The streets were abandoned. The evacuation began the moment they heard Edelgard had crossed Myrrdin. No bustling markets now, no merchants hawking their wares or nobles showing off their silk gowns — just silence.

The details of Shamir’s scouting report crept into her mind. How did they stand a chance against an army of that size?

She was used to dreading the passage of time, but this wait was too much to bear.

“At attention!” — Holst’s voice jolted her back into the moment.

The steel armor and weapons of the assembled Leicester force rattled in unison. Holst walked up and down the line, surveying his army packed into the market square.

They were men and women of every stripe — whether vassals of Riegan, Daphnel or Goneril, the armed guards of the merchant families, or conscripted citizens of Derdriu.

Marianne stood at the head of a battalion of Riegan swordsmen, Blutgang hanging from her hip. The magical sword inspired awe in Lysithea. If they were to hold the Empire back, it would take both Claude’s brilliance and the Hero’s Relics on their side.

Failnaught. Blutgang. Holst’s Freikugel. Maybe there was hope, after all.

Lysithea took her place beside Ignatz and a regiment of archers. The Alliance would be leaning on her talents in the coming battle as well. Mages were difficult to come by, especially those of her skill. Marianne was the only one in the Alliance who came close, but she took to the sword thanks to Professor Jeritza’s guidance.

_Jeritza. Who would have thought…_

The whole time, right under their noses, they were plotting the Church’s downfall — Jeritza. Hubert. 

Edelgard.

She kept trying to forget it, but her thoughts lingered on her time with the Emperor...

***

Lysithea stewed among the dusty shelves of the library. It wasn’t the most scenic spot at Garreg Mach, but she felt at home here, surrounded by hundreds of years of knowledge and history.

She needed to get away. She couldn’t stand it. The Battle of the Eagle and Lion was over, and Claude was getting all the glory. But she knew the truth. They never would have won if she hadn’t held the hill on her own.

She’s the one who saw Ferdinand rallying the Black Eagles for a cavalry charge. It would have broken the Golden Deer’s lines if she hadn’t used the high ground to hold them off with her magic.

But not a word of thanks from Claude. None of the back-slapping and congratulations from the faculty. She didn’t even get to lift the victors’ cup. It was him, always him.

Lysithea buried her face in a book to hide her tears of rage. _Even now, they treat me like a child. After all I’ve done. Haven’t I proven myself?_

She heard the sound of approaching footsteps. Startled, she held the book closer to her face. _Nobody can see me; I can’t do this right now —_

“Lysithea. Lower your book, please.”

It was Edelgard. _No, I can’t do it, not in front of the Imperial Princess —_

“There’s no way you can be reading with the words so close to your face. Please, let me see you. I want to talk.”

Slowly, Lysithea lowered her book to the table, her face still stained by tears.

The princess sat down across from her. She wore a look of warmth — tender and understanding. “I wanted to congratulate you for your efforts in the Battle of the Eagle and Lion. You were a marvel on the battlefield.”

Lysithea wiped her eyes. “R-really? You think so?”

Edelgard’s smile put Lysithea at ease — she felt safe here.

“Yes. Don’t think I didn’t notice your heroics. You were one step ahead of our movements the whole way. I would take the fighting skills of my Black Eagles over your classmates any day, but between you and Claude, we were always fighting at a disadvantage.”

These are the words Lysithea longed to hear. She couldn’t believe it. Edelgard always seemed so aloof, even arrogant. She never had time for any of the Golden Deer, but here she was, praising her —

Edelgard continued. “I’ve never taken the time to speak to you like this, and I’m sorry for it. I feel a certain... kinship with you. The rest of the students here go about their lives, ready to become privileged nobles or marry into wealth. But you’re different.”

Lysithea’s heart beat faster. _Does she know about my Crests?_ _No, impossible, stop being paranoid..._

Edelgard’s stare never wavered. Her voice grew more forceful and deliberate. “You don’t have time for dances or courtship or careless trips into town.” She motioned to the surrounding bookshelves. “You spend your time here, deep in the knowledge at our fingertips. You approach your studies with a ferocity unmatched by anyone else at the monastery. There’s something special about you. You’re not just trying to live in this world — you’re the kind of person who wants to shape it.”

Lysithea felt herself lean forward. Edelgard was magnetic. _Her eyes… It’s like she’s looking right into my soul..._

Edelgard’s voice became hushed. “You see, I think you know better than anyone that this world we’re living in — it’s broken. The corruption of the nobles, the obsession with Crests, the innocent people that get caught up in petty squabbles for power and bloodlines.” She locked eyes with Lysithea with an iron stare. “It really is cruel, isn’t it? The way a person can be victimized by the Crest in her blood?”

Lysithea froze.

Edelgard rose from her seat, her gaze lingering on Lysithea. “I’ll make you a promise. I, Edelgard von Hresvelg, swear that you will have your chance to leave your mark on Fódlan’s history. But when that door opens, it’s up to you to walk through it.”

She turned to walk away, her silver hair flowing behind her as she left Lysithea’s sight.

Lysithea could only watch, enraptured.

_I wonder… Has her hair always been that color..._

***

Of course, now Lysithea knew the truth behind Edelgard’s words. That door did open, the day she ambushed Lady Rhea in the Holy Tomb of Sothis. The day Professor Byleth was killed.

She could still hear Edelgard’s voice, calling out to the students to join her. But Lysithea could not bring herself to run to the Emperor’s side. Others had taken that chance, but not the Golden Deer. It was too late — Claude had earned her devotion, along with the rest of her class.

Holst addressed the assembled troops. “Men and women of the Alliance. There’s an army coming for us. A wench from Enbarr comes for our lands. She thinks she should be your Emperor — that she alone can lord over your lives, your children, your families. But we are men and women of Leicester. We will be ruled by no one!”

The troops roared their approval as he lifted Freikugel in the air. Hilda cheered from her place behind a Goneril commander. Lysithea chuckled to herself. _All this time and they still don’t trust her to lead a battalion. Typical._

Holst smiled proudly at his assembled force. “It won’t be long now, friends. You have trained for this. You have prepared for this. A glorious day for our Alliance that will shake the entire world! The Goddess smiles on us. Now, to your positions!”

A cheer went up. Lysithea turned to Ignatz — they nodded at each other. He hoisted his bow over his shoulder as they motioned to their troops to follow.

It was time to man the walls.

**CLAUDE**

Claude let out a yawn and stretched his arms over his head. He splashed his face with water—time to wake up.

Judith’s voice cut through his moment of relaxation. “Put a shirt on, boy. It’s a big day for you.”

He turned around and saw his advisor standing in the doorway to his bed-chamber. It was true — he had overslept. Hilda was long gone from his bed by the time he awoke.

Judith tossed his leather armor onto the bed and shook her head. “Come on. The troops are already assembling. You need to show your face.”

Claude sighed. He couldn’t stand this part of the job. But she was right.

The mood in the Aquatic Capital was tense enough after those damned nobles withdrew their support. Leonie’s report put it over the edge. 

Why was everyone so surprised? This was exactly what he wanted. Lure Edelgard into a massive show of force, and break Adrestia’s spirits by crushing them beneath it.

Claude’s finest hour was approaching. It would etch his name in history. Just another step on the path toward his destiny.

***

Sweat dripped down Claude’s face. He gritted his teeth as he parried every one one of his teacher’s blows, each one nearly knocking him off his feet.

_I can’t win. He’s so much bigger than me…_

The man laughed as Claude wilted under the pressure of his strikes. “You think I’m winning because I’m stronger than you? You’re as foolish as ever, lad.”

His blade came down to Claude’s right — he moved to deflect it — but the swing stopped midair, changing into a stab to the left, and hit Claude in the ribs.

He then swept his leg underneath Claude, who collapsed to the ground, the wooden sword now pressed against his throat.

Nader grinned from ear to ear. “Nevermind strength. It’s your mind, lad. Your mind is what’s going to give you the edge. It’s more powerful than any weapon, more dangerous than any spell. Learn to follow your enemy’s movements, anticipate their actions, and use it to your advantage.”

Claude took in his teacher’s words as he caught his breath. Nader continued. “It’s the one thing they can never take away from you. Now get up. And this time, think. Watch me closely...”

It was days later now, and he was once again on the run from his tormentors. “Fódlan coward!” They shouted as they chased him through the streets. They were older than him — taller and faster. He knew they would catch him, but this time he had a plan.

He turned to run down an alleyway. Their footsteps were louder now; their taunts rang in his ears. _They’re right behind me._ Claude dived to the ground and crawled through a hole in the wall.

He heard their strained grunts — they were trying to follow him through the hole, but they were too big. He emerged on the other side, right next to the ladder he had stowed the day before.

His heart beat faster and faster as he climbed each rung. His nose caught a foul odor. _Yes! It’s happening!_ Finally, he reached the top. There it was: the bucket of manure.

He hoisted it above his head and let out a triumphant cackle. The boys looked up at him.

He had them now.

***

Claude’s eyes narrowed. Edelgard von Hresvelg — she was no different. Another arrogant dastard who thought brute force was the way to power, that her people were just pawns for her own ambition. He knew her kind all too well. They haunted every step of his life. They tormented him as a child in Almyra, and they turned their noses up at him when he came to Fódlan.

They showed him how broken this world was. And that he was the only one who could fix it.

***

He sat alone outside of the Alymran capital watching the sunset, a sack of his belongings over his shoulder. The carriage would be arriving soon. 

Claude sighed. So this is how his time in his homeland was about to end: alone in the dark, with nobody to see him off.

He never belonged here. They never let him belong here. They may have stopped beating him or baiting him into fights — they learned the hard way that he could outsmart anyone in combat — but the open challenges were replaced with whispers and rumors behind his back. He was the son of the king, but he was stained by his Fódlan blood.

Women rejected him, men avoided him. His parents ignored him — his father doted on his other sons by his Almyran concubines, while his mother was too caught up in her palace lifestyle to worry about her only child.

And now the news from Fódlan. His grandfather, the Duke of House Riegan, was on his deathbed, and there were no heirs left beside the Almyran half-breed he had tried to keep secret for years. The Riegans shunned him for his entire young life, and he was now called upon to save their House.

It would have enraged him if he hadn’t become numb to this kind of treatment long ago.

_Would that damn carriage just hurry up, already..._

He heard footsteps coming down the road from the direction of the capital. Claude sighed. There’s only one person this could be.

“So, you’ve come to see me off, Nader?”

His mentor laughed his deep belly laugh. “Of course I am. You think I would just leave you on your own?”

Claude shook his head. “I don’t know why you bother. Nobody else thinks I’m worth the time of day.”

Nader rolled his eyes. “Well you don’t do yourself any favors with your self-pity. It’s all about perspective — you’re about to start on a grand adventure. Who knows what awaits you in Fódlan? It’s a chance to start over. It’s up to you to make something of it.”

Claude looked straight ahead, steely-eyed. “You’re right about one thing. This is an opportunity.” He paused, trying to bury his emotions. “I don’t want to live in a world where one more child grows up shunned because of his heritage.”

Nader nodded. “You’ve been telling me that for years. It’s time to finally put that mind of yours to good use, Claude. People are going to look to you, and you would be foolish to take that for granted. I don’t know exactly how this future you dream of can become a reality, but promise me that you will try your damndest to make it so. I don’t trust those Leicester wretches one bit. As long as they threaten us, I will never stop fighting them. But if you can truly find a way to end this…”

His voice trailed off. Claude smiled. _Good advice, old friend, but I’ve already thought this through._

“I promise, Nader. I don’t know how long it will take. Maybe my entire life, maybe beyond that. But it’s also possible that a door will open somewhere — an opportunity will come, and when it does, I’ll seize it.”

Nader let out a hearty laugh. “You’re completely mad. And that’s what I love about you. These stuffy Fódlan types have no idea what they’re in for.”

In the distance, Claude heard trotting hooves and the creak of wooden wheels. His carriage was about to arrive. Nader heard it too, a wistful look appearing on his bearded face. He pulled Claude in a bear hug, his voice breaking. “I’m going to miss you, lad.”

Claude patted him on the back. “I’ll make you proud. You’ll be seeing me again.”

***

Claude took a deep breath and stepped into the wyvern aerie. The creatures perked up. They were glad to see him, and chirped happily in his presence. He walked to the edge of the tower and looked out over his city, deep in thought.

That opportunity he had mentioned to Nader all those years ago had come. Edelgard had seen to that. Now he would use her overconfidence against her. The Empire’s downfall wouldn’t be a failure of military power, it would be a failure of imagination. They had no idea what was coming.

And Claude would be well on his way to becoming Supreme Ruler of Fódlan.

His body tingled with excitement. He caught himself and cleared his mind. _Focus. You have a battle to win first._

Soon those wyverns would be flying to war with the rest of his Immortal Corps, the elite Riegan warriors he had trained to turn the tide of battles. Against the Empire’s fliers, the Alliance army needed all the help it could get.

He approached his favorite wyvern — the albino, Fatimah. She crooned and stretched her head forward as he petted her gently. “Time to fly, girl.”

She lowered herself to the ground as he climbed nimbly onto her back. Before he knew it, they were off, looking down at Derdriu. He waved the Riegan banner in the air as the soldiers cheered at the sight of their leader.

Claude’s eyes darted to every corner of the city. The fortifications, the fallback positions, everything was in order. The ballista towers were complete. The streets and alleyways were blocked off with a maze of new walls and defenses, holes for arrows carved into every possible corner. 

Lysithea had done well organizing the defense of the gate. He smirked when he thought of the surprises she had in store for Edelgard’s army.

They would hold the Empire. That’s all they had to do. Hold on until his life’s work was complete...

**IGNATZ**

Claude looked so majestic, soaring over the city like that. Ignatz sighed with envy. He stood beside Lysithea on the Derdriu battlements, thinking back to his early days at Garreg Mach. Back then, he could barely wield a sword, and now here he was, commanding the first line of defense along with his old classmate. They were staring down death with the fate of the Alliance on their shoulders. He shuddered.

_Come on, Ignatz. You can do this. You belong here. They’re depending on you._

_She’s depending on you._

His mind drifted back to the tavern. To Marianne. He surprised himself with how bold he had been, but the mix of alcohol and fear of the coming battle gave him courage. _Why couldn’t Leonie have waited just a few more minutes?_

He knew it was a selfish thought. But only the Goddess knew how the battle was about to unfold. One stray arrow, one miscalculation could be the end of him, and he might never see her again...

He took a breath. _No. There’s no time for fear. You’re a leader now. Stay on the task at hand._

He turned his eyes to the trees, scanning for any movement. It wouldn’t be long. The Empire was coming.

To his left, a group of shoulders shouted and pointed — ”Over there! Do you see it?”

Ignatz quickly looked back to the tree line. His eyes raced back and forth, but he couldn’t see anything. What were they talking about?

A horn blared. Lysithea grabbed his arm. “What are you waiting for? The eastern wall needs you!”

What was going on?

He looked again. Now he saw it.

In the sky, on the horizon, barely visible against the clouds — the white wings of pegasus knights, flapping in the air, crimson banners trailing behind them.

More horns blared as the soldiers stirred. Ignatz could only watch as they drew closer…

He felt a sharp pain in his side as Lysithea jabbed him. “Stop staring and get moving!”  
  
She was right. He had to go. He ran along the battlements toward his battalions on the eastern side of the wall. Each soldier he passed looked more frightened than the last.

_Should I look? Maybe I shouldn’t…_

But his curiosity got the better of him. He looked to his right —

The sight stopped him in his tracks.

Figures and shapes emerged from the trees. Swords, bows, lances, axes, cavalry — an endless sea of Adrestian soldiers arranged in perfect rows and columns. Every inch of ground was covered in golden armor and crimson plumes. And they didn’t stop coming. Behind them — Ignatz had never seen so many catapults.

He had read the scouting report. He knew Edelgard was bringing overwhelming numbers to their doorstep. But to see it for himself…

She wasn’t just planning to win. She wanted to wipe Derdriu from the face of the Earth.

He gulped. His body trembled as the fear overtook him.

The pegasus knights soared overhead. They dived and swerved in graceful formation. Ignatz tried to calm himself. _It’s all for show. They’re trying to intimidate us._

And then he saw her — soaring high above the army, her golden armor shining in the sun. She wore a flowing red cape that whipped in the wind. In one hand, she carried a crimson banner with the double-headed eagle of Adrestia — in the other, the sacred lance Lúin, burning red. The commander of the Adrestian Army. His old friend — Ingrid Galatea.

Ignatz frowned as he felt a wave of disgust. He could never understand why she joined with these fiends to attack the Church. 

From below, a new sight caught his eye — a violet banner he knew all too well.

 _No, it can’t be._ It was the banner of House Gloucester. The Count had not just abandoned Derdriu, he had joined forces with the Empire. Ignatz squinted — was that Lorenz in their ranks?

He felt a flash of rage. The fear was gone, replaced with righteous fury. These traitors could never win. He would fight them to his last breath.

He sprinted down the battlements, his bow in hand. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the Empire wyverns join the pegasi, swooping toward the ground, just out of range of the Alliance bows. So Ladislava was here too. Edelgard was not holding anything back.

Ignatz arrived at his post, and not a moment too soon. Ingrid soared high above the Adrestian forces. She raised Lúin in the air and pointed it toward the walls of Derdriu. The entire army let out a deafening roar, a battle cry that shook Ignatz to his core.

The front lines charged toward the bridge that led to the city gates. On the other end of the wall, a small bolt of lightning sliced through the air. Lysithea raised her Levin Sword, giving the signal —

Ignatz raised his arm and yelled with all of his might. “Soldiers of the Alliance! Our time has come. We will never give in to these treacherous dogs!”

The soldiers stood taller, responding to the sound of their commander’s voice. “Archers!” he yelled. “Nock your arrows!”  
  
The Empire troops reached the bridge. Suddenly, orbs of fire erupted from Lysithea’s position. A hail of arrows followed. A powerful explosion filled the air, engulfing the river in a cloud of smoke. By the time it had cleared, the bridge was gone.

Ignatz pointed toward the battlefield and yelled with all his might. “Loose!”

A volley of arrows whistled over his head. He took a deep breath and lifted his bow.

The siege of Derdriu had begun.


	4. The Fog of War

**LINHARDT**

This was the last place in Fódlan that Linhardt wanted to be. His eyes darted left and right, looking for someplace to hide, some way to escape — but it was pointless. There was no chance to get away. Not with the Death Knight watching.

He sighed. _The front lines... what a horrifying fate._

Alliance arrows shot down from the battlements. Empire troops scattered for cover, tripping over their fallen comrades. The bodies of the dead littered the ground, charred by flames and riddled with arrows. Their dying screams filled the air. Linhardt winced and averted his eyes. Orbs of magical fire erupted from above the gate, exploding into the soldiers. The smell of burning flesh carried through the cold breeze. Linhardt doubled over and retched.

Tears streamed down his cheeks. _What am I doing here? Why did Hubert send me to —_

He groaned as a strong arm yanked him to his feet. His eyes met with the blank, emotionless stare of Jeritza — the fearsome Death Knight. His old professor’s voice sent shivers down his spine.

“Get up. Do your duty, mageling.”

Linhardt hesitated. “I’m not supposed to be here, I’m supposed to be healing the wounded, I’m not —”

“GO!” Jeriza roared. Linhardt gulped and jogged ahead.

It was a clever move by Claude to destroy the bridge. But the Adrestians had to cross that river, and they needed Linhardt to do it.

He followed a battalion of Jeritza’s legionaries, who interlocked their shields in a tortoise formation. They marched toward the river and entered the range of the Alliance bows. The arrows pinged and deflected off of their shields. Of course, the arrows weren’t the problem…

One of the legionaries in the back of the formation turned to Linhardt. She shouted to him, desperate. “Please, Master Linhardt, that mage will get us any second —”

Light flashed from from the battlements above the Derdriu gate. Another spell —

Linhardt took a sip of breath. Time seemed to slow to a crawl. He hated running. He hated danger. He hated the sight of blood — but what else could he do? These soldiers needed him.

Edelgard needed him.

So Linhardt ran. He ran as fast as he could, sprinting toward the front of the formation. The orbs of flame shot toward Jeritza’s men. Linhardt threw his arms into the air and muttered an incantation. An enormous blue ward materialized in front of them. Sweat dripped down his face — but all of his focus was on the protective spell. _Will it be enough_ …

The fire collided with the translucent wall and dissipated into a fizzle. A volley of arrows bounced helplessly off of the defensive magic.

The soldiers cheered. “Call for the engineers — Master Hevring is here to save us!”

Linhardt took deep breaths and kept up his ward. _Don’t treat me like a hero, you fools._

He and the legionaries were to hold strong and protect the Adrestian engineers as they built a new crossing. Shields and wooden barriers could stop the arrows, but only he could stop the spells.

He didn’t want to be here. He didn’t know if he could do it. So much work, when all he wanted to do was run away and sleep. But those screams… he couldn’t bear to hear them again...

He grimaced as another round of magical bolts rattled off of his ward. This power, he hadn’t seen anything like it in years. His opponent was no apprentice mage.

For the first time in months, a slight smile crept onto Linhardt’s face.

_Lysithea. You never did make things easy for me, did you?_

**CASPAR**

It was a good day for a fight.

Caspar’s spine tingled with anticipation. He sat atop his horse before the walls of Derdriu, a legion of Bergliez soldiers at his command. The Alliance would be crushed. The only question was how long it would take.

His cousin Randolph was one of Edelgard’s top lieutenants, and he chose Caspar to lead the Bergliez forces on the army’s eastern flank. What an honor — and one he never would have dreamed of before Edelgard took the throne. Caspar smirked. _I wonder what my father thinks of me now…_

***

Finally, there was some excitement in the dull streets of Merceus. Caspar exhaled and stared down his opponent. It was his own brother, Magnus. A crowd of young men stood around them, whooping and jeering as the eldest sons of House Bergliez faced off.

Magnus was known for his strength and prowess in battle, but Caspar had never backed down from anyone. _He can’t take me. Bring it!_

Magnus shouted a battle cry and charged at Caspar, who ran to meet him head-on. Caspar lowered his body and wrapped his arms around his brother’s waist — he kept driving his legs and tackled him into the ground. Magnus grunted and shoved him away. Caspar stumbled but kept his footing. He let out a roar of his own, leaped toward his brother, and smashed his fist into his chin.

Magnus was out cold.

The cheers stopped. The men shifted and murmured quietly.

Caspar rose to his feet and wiped the grime and spittle off his face. He looked proudly to the assembled crowd and shook his fist. “Who wants to insult me next? Huh?” 

"Yeah, so I’m not the heir to some fancy House. Well, most of you dastards aren’t, either!” He pointed to his brother — he was conscious again, but groaned and clutched his face. “If you think you’re better than me, that’s what you’re gonna get!”

He could barely hide his grin. _I showed him. I showed all of them. Caspar von Bergliez is gonna make a name for himself. Nobody’s gonna stop me._

Caspar noticed the group of young men part as nervous energy rippled through the crowd. He puffed out his chest. _Alright! Who’s gonna take me on next?_

A trio of Bergliez guards pushed their way toward Caspar.

His heart sank.

The leader sized him up with a look of disapproval. His two comrades each grabbed one of Caspar’s arms and pulled them behind his back. “Lord Caspar. Your father will see you now.”

_Oh, hell._

Caspar sighed. “Alright, let’s get this over with.”

The guards dragged him through the streets of Merceus toward his father’s House.

He now faced his father, Count Titus von Bergliez, the Minister of Military Affairs and one of the most powerful men in the Empire. He was one of the Seven, the noble leaders of the Great Houses of Adrestia who rebelled against Emperor Ionious — and reduced him to a puppet ruler.

Count Bergliez was not to be trifled with. His thick mustache curled downward as he glared at his secondborn son. His voice cut through the room like a knife —

“How dare you bring dishonor to your own family! I should disown you here and now. Always running around my city like a delinquent! And now you humiliate your own brother in public, in front of the mindless rabble that roams _our_ streets...”

Caspar couldn’t help himself. He shouted back. “I’m tired of him walking all over me. Just because I’m not your heir doesn’t mean—”

Count Bergliez roared back at him. “Well, are you my heir, boy?”

Caspar scowled at his father and shook with rage. But there was nothing he could say.

Count Bergliez wore a menacing smile. “That’s what I thought. Compared to him, you are nothing. Emperors and generals will hang on his every word. Every table in Adrestia will be filled with meals from his land. He will shape the future. But you? I’m ashamed to call you my son. When I am gone, he will always be Count Bergliez. And you will be nothing.”

Caspar stared at the ground, quivering.

Count Bergliez addressed the guards. “We’ll see if two nights in the dungeon can’t set him straight. Get him out of my sight.”

***

Caspar shook his head. He had always been impressed by Edelgard, but he was stunned when his father joined her cause. Her reforms had already paved the way for the leadership of those who earned it — like himself, Randolph, Ladislava... 

The world was changing. But for all of Fódlan to be saved, Derdriu had to fall. The Alliance was a relic of the past. Caspar was ready to bring about its swift end.

Ingrid’s pegasus knights soared over his head. He hoisted his axe in the air and joined the army in their deafening battlecry. By now, Linhardt must have reached the front lines. It wouldn’t be long before the Empire stormed the city.

One of the pegasus knights broke off from the formation, speeding toward the eastern forest. The rider craned her neck and peered toward the ground.

Caspar watched her, confused. _What is she doing? That's not where the fighting is..._

A single arrow shot from the forest and hit the pegasus knight in the head. She went limp and fell to the ground. Her mount squealed and fluttered wildly. Caspar froze. _What in the world? How could —_

No time to think. He knew what was coming. He barked at his troops. “Shields up!”

But it was too late. A swarm of arrows flew at them from the trees and cut down a swath of Bergliez soldiers. The ground rumbled with galloping hooves — a battalion of Alliance horse archers charged from the forest.

Panic spread through the soldiers. He raised his wooden shield and felt the _thunk_ of arrows colliding with its frame. He heard a shout from his cousin Fleche — “They’re retreating!”

Caspar grunted and fought the urge to chase after the bow knights. _Come on, Caspar, think._ For a moment he was back at his desk at Garreg Mach, taking in Professor Byleth’s words. _This is a hit-and-run attack. You know what to do._

“Move our archers to the front!” he yelled. “They’re gonna come back, we need to be ready!”

The order spread through the Bergliez forces. They would have to hold the Alliance cavalry back with archers of their own. 

Caspar looked around at his re-shuffling ranks. He felt a hand wrap around his calf and yelped with a start. With a look downward he saw one of his soldiers lying on the ground, bleeding out. Arrows stuck to her body like pincushions. She groaned and reached for Caspar, desperate for help.

He ignored her and looked toward the front lines. There was nothing he could do.

The Bergliez archers moved into position. The ground rumbled again as the bow knights galloped forward. _Here we go._

Caspar bellowed — “Loose your arrows!”

Projectiles zipped through the air as the Empire and Alliance exchanged volleys. The bow knights wilted under the Imperial arrows. This time, they could not close the distance and broke off the attack.

Caspar’s spirits soared. They had them on the run — for real this time. And it was all thanks to his quick thinking.

 _What’s the next move… come on, you know this._ His eyes lit up. He raised his axe in the air and shouted the order. “Cavalry! Let’s go! Pursue our attackers!”

With a cheer, the mounted Bergliez troops charged after their fleeing enemies. Caspar squeezed his legs against his horse and laughed as he galloped to the front of the formation. _Come on. Faster. Let’s do this!_

He glared at his prey. He was gaining on them with every stride. They disappeared into the trees — but the Bergliez horses were not far behind.

An Alliance rider yelled to her forces. “Scatter! We’ll lose them in the forest!”

_Who is that shouting? That voice sounds familiar…_

Caspar squinted. He was right on his enemy’s tail. She wouldn’t last long. He pulled up alongside her and raised his axe —

She turned to face him.

The color drained from Caspar’s face. 

It was Leonie.

***

Now he was back at Garreg Mach, on the training grounds, laughing as he parried her blows. But she did not yield — her lance strikes grew more and more intense as Caspar struggled to keep up. Soon he was in the dirt, defeated, reaching for her hand as she helped him up. This is why she was his favorite sparring partner — the only one who could keep him on his toes —

It was the night of the ball. Caspar stood with the Black Eagle men, shifting awkwardly as his eyes darted to and from the dance floor. He could not help but watch Hilda. His heart raced each time her flowing pink gown fluttered above the floor. She twirled and beamed with a smile that could light up the world…

Leonie grabbed his arm, a twinkle of mischief in her eye. “Do you want to ask Hilda to dance? Come on.” She pulled him into the crowd of dancing students...

***

Caspar lowered his axe; his horse slowed to a trot. The Bergliez riders followed his lead and reared their horses, halting their advance. Leonie galloped away, into the forest and out of Caspar’s sight.

Fleche pulled up alongside him. “Caspar? What’s going on? Is something amiss —”

But Caspar said nothing. He couldn’t concentrate on his cousin’s words. He could only stare after his old friend, his mouth agape.

That is, until Fleche’s words became a series of gags and sputters. Caspar snapped out of his stupor and looked to his cousin.

An arrow was lodged in her throat. She doubled over and coughed up blood.

Caspar reached for her as arrows rained around them. He clasped his hand around hers, trying to offer words of comfort.

But before the words could leave him, an arrow sliced into his back —


	5. A Bridge Too Far

**CASPAR**

_Take a step. Take a step. Come on. You can do it._

Caspar stumbled forward, blood spilling down his shirt. An arrow protruded from his back.

He hobbled through the field, unsteady on his feet. The world was spinning. He could make out the muffled shouts of his men. Were they rushing to his aid?

A wave of grief washed over him.

_Fleche…_

He coughed and stumbled.

_Stay on your feet. Come on…_

His head hit the ground with a crack.

A warm glow filled his body as Caspar awoke. His hands were held in a gentle grip — it felt nice... 

His ears echoed with hacks, groans, and pained murmurs. The battle...

He gasped and opened his eyes with a start. Manuela held his hand, a pained look in her eyes.

Caspar’s heart raced. Sweat dripped down his forehead. He was in the healing tent, surrounded by wounded soldiers.

He sat up to get a better view of his surroundings, but Manuela softly pressed her hand against his chest, pushing him back toward the bed. “Please, dear, try to rest up.”

Caspar slapped her hand away. “I can’t. I need to get back —”

Manuela looked at him sadly. “You need to lay down. My magic is still doing its work. You were in rough shape.”

He looked around. He recognized the faces of the wounded men and women, collapsed on the beds. A few of them were healed by white magic, resting and recovering, but most lay dead or dying.

He shuddered as the memories rushed into his mind. The bow knight charge. His pursuit. Leonie.

Fleche.

He looked to his old professor. “Manuela. Fleche, did she…”

Manuela shook her head softly.

A jolt of fury shot through Caspar. He wanted to fight, to lash out, to punish those responsible. Nobody would stop him this time; he would get his revenge —

Yet, he could not blame anyone but himself.

He was the one who hesitated, who couldn’t make the kill, even though Leonie was in his reach. He had worked and studied his whole life to become a military leader, and now...

He pounded his fist into the bed and cried out with rage.

The other patients around him stirred. In the next row over, a bandaged man coughed and looked in Caspar’s direction. Caspar recognized him as one of the Bergliez horsemen. The man’s eyes were full of anger.

Try as he might, Caspar could not blame him. The shame stuck in his mind like tar. _I let him down. I let all of them down. I have to make this right._

Fuming, he rolled himself out of bed. Manuela moved to stop him, but he brushed her off. “No,” he snapped. “I have to go see Randolph.”

Manuela sighed and let him go, as Caspar knew she would. Even back at the Academy, she had always gone easier on his headstrong ways than the other professors.

He tried to ignore the judgmental stares of the wounded as he made his exit.

Caspar stomped through the Empire camp. It was frantic with activity — scouts and messengers sprinted to and fro while wounded soldiers were rushed to the medical tents. The dull explosions of battle rumbled through the air, accompanied by the distant clanging of shields and armor.

He pushed his way through the fray. He paid no mind to the surprised and confused looks on the faces of the officers. Word of the bow knight charge and his failure must have spread through the ranks by now.

At last, he found who he was looking for. Randolph and his lieutenants pored over a map of Derdriu’s defenses. Hubert stood beside him, as cold and calculating as ever.

 _Damn._ The last person he wanted to see. Hubert’s icy demeanor never mixed well with Caspar — especially when Caspar’s emotions ran high.

Even worse, Hubert was the first one to notice his arrival. His old classmate looked up and fixed his eyes on him. Caspar braced himself for a snide remark — but there was nothing. Hubert only watched him with silence.

Caspar stood in front of the group and caught Randolph’s eye.

He and his cousin stared at one another. An immediate silence fell over the group as each officer noticed his presence.

Randolph’s face was lined and haggard. He was a handsome, strong and talented leader — but he looked like a shell of himself. His lips quivered slightly as he addressed Caspar. “I did not expect to see you on your feet again so soon, cousin. Do you have news for us?”

Caspar shook his head. The officers with him watched with visible discomfort. He might as well cut to the chase. “I… Randolph. I’m so sorry. Fleche, I was with her when it happened…”

Randolph’s face twitched. His breaths were heavier, but his expression did not break. “Yes. Thank you. She knew what she was getting into. We are at war, after all. Now, if you’ll excuse me, we must return to our planning —”

Caspar interjected. “I swear to you — I will avenge her. As soon as I get back to the eastern flank, I’ll take our troops and hunt down the ones who did this. I promise you, on my honor as a Bergliez.”

The other officers shifted awkwardly while Hubert let out a bemused chuckle. Randolph looked downward for a moment before addressing Caspar once again. “Caspar. You’ve been relieved.”

“What?!” Caspar shouted. The words hit him like a gauntlet to the face.

Randolph did not waver. “This is a battlefield, Caspar. Our soldiers need to trust their commanders. I need to trust them — and the one thing they cannot do is hesitate. Lives are at stake. You had your chance. Now, unless you want to be the one to explain to Her Majesty why House Bergliez lost all of its cavalry, I suggest you get back to the medical tent and await your new orders.” 

Caspar shivered. Edelgard did not tolerate failure. That she would learn of his weakness... It was too much to bear.

Randolph glared at him. “Begone, Caspar. You’ve already done enough.”

Caspar nodded, dazed. “Y-Yes, sir. Understood.”

He turned and slipped away from the group. With each step, he felt like he was walking through a nightmare.

Just as he began to leave, he noticed Hanneman hurrying through the crowd. Caspar turned away — he could not bear to look at his old professor right now — but Hanneman did not notice him. He brushed past Caspar and shouted to Randolph, out of breath.

“My Lord, I’ve just heard from the eastern flank. They chased the bow knights through the forest, but they escaped.”

Randolph looked up, shocked. “Escaped? How? Derdriu’s on the other side of the river. There’s no way —”

Hanneman interrupted. “Tunnels, my Lord. They left all their horses behind and escaped through a tunnel back to the city. And they collapsed it behind them so we can’t follow. It’s rather ingenious, I must say —”

Hubert furrowed his brow while Randolph looked to the other officers, frantic. “They have tunnels. Oh, Goddess. Get a message to the front lines. Now!”

**LYSITHEA**

Lysithea spit out a clump of dirt. She didn’t like tight spaces, she didn’t like the dark, and she certainly didn’t like being squeezed between a bunch of sweaty soldiers.

_Tunnels. Who thought this would be a good idea, anyway?_

Well, she had thought of it, but she didn’t expect Claude to take to the plan with such enthusiasm.

_Crawling on my hands and knees like a clueless peasant. Ugh._

Too irritated to pay attention, she bumped head-first into the burly soldier in front of her. He yelped with pain. “Ouch! Geez, Lady, are you gonna keep running into me like that? It’s been three times now!”

Lysithea grumbled. She needed to get out of the dark. It reminded her too much of…

No. She would not dare give voice to the haunting memories that clawed at the back of her mind.

_Enough. We’re almost there._

The tunnel angled upward. They were getting close.

Lysithea’s heart pounded. They must be crawling right under the feet of the Empire’s vanguard. What waited for them on the surface? Had the Adrestians caught on?

_This had better work…_

She could smell the air become fresher and hear the dull beat of the Empire’s war drums.

The convoy of soldiers stopped. Lysithea craned her neck, straining to see around the man in front of her.

This was it. They were preparing to emerge from the underground.

Her overactive mind raced. Countless things could go wrong. What if the Empire was waiting in ambush? What if Raphael’s group was too slow? What if they had miscalculated and emerged right on top of an Imperial legion… Or worse, the Death Knight.

Lysithea shuddered as she remembered his black armor, darker than the night sky. His horse rearing in front of the flames at Remire, his black scythe slicing through the air…

If she saw him on the battlefield, she would not let him escape. Not again. 

Her heartbeat was so loud she could barely tell it apart from the Imperial drums. The man in front of her turned around and looked at her with concern. He had a rugged but kind face, mussed black hair and rippling muscles. “You alright there, Little Lady?”

She had heard of this man — Balthus, was it? He was an outlaw, but Holst had vouched for him. They needed all the swords they could get. She looked away from him, embarrassed. “Yes. I’m fine! Stop worrying about me, I can handle myself.”

Balthus shook his head and chuckled. “You know, it’s okay to be a little frightened. Some of us are about to die. But don’t you worry — we’ve all got our orders to protect you. Not that I need them. I sure as hell won’t let those Adrestian rats have their way with you.”

Lysithea looked back at him, incredulous. “Why are you so concerned about my well-being? I’m not a child, you know.”

He smiled and winked at her. _Yuck. Gross._ “I happen to owe your old man a favor. But don’t you worry about that. Just stay where I can see you up there. I’ll take care of you.”

She could not help but feel warm at the mention of her father. How did Balthus know him? Before she could ask, the convoy began to move again.

The point man had given the all-clear. They were on their way to the surface.

They emerged deep in the patch of forest that flanked the river crossing. The Imperial fliers could not hope to spot them here.

Lysithea’s troops stretched their limbs and readied for the coming fight. They were hand-picked by Claude and Holst — a collection of Alliance troops used to fighting in the woods and the mountains, who could move quickly without alerting their enemies. It was on her to lead them now.

She sighed. _Right. Step one is done. Let’s hope Raphael did his part._

They moved swiftly through the trees. All the while, she kept careful track of her surroundings. She would need to make a quick escape once the engineers were taken care of. Balthus was right — Claude had ordered that the soldiers protect Lysithea at any cost, but she couldn’t stand everyone making such a fuss over her. She gritted her teeth with determination.

_They’ll have to carry me out of here before I give up. We’re going to win._

The Adrestians were masters of military engineering, and it wouldn’t be long until they finished their makeshift bridge. She could not let them cross the river. Not yet. They just had to hold the Empire back.

With every step, the rhythm of the war drums thumped louder and louder against her chest. Lysithea held her breath. They were near the edge of the trees now. 

She peered through the brush.

Rows and columns of armored Imperial legionaries marched forward in perfect formation. She gazed down the road toward the river. Nearly every inch of ground was covered with Adrestian troops. They were in for a tough fight.

Lysithea looked across the way to the opposite tree line, hoping to see the second battalion of Alliance soldiers — but there was nothing.

_Dammit, Raphael, where are you?_

Lysithea felt a light tug on her arm. She turned to face one of her men — he looked at her eagerly. “My Lady, what say you? Shall we attack now?”

She looked back out to the road. They could do some damage, but…

In her mind, the tomes of Garreg Mach’s library stretched before her.. She had soaked up endless knowledge of tactics and military precision. The moment was here; they had the element of surprise, but if they could surprise and outflank their enemy... 

Before Lysithea could make her decision, a brief flash of reflective light caught her eye from the other treeline.

She smiled.

Exactly what she was waiting for.

With a deep breath, she reached for her own bar of silver and held it up to the sun, shining it back to her allies.

The soldiers around her tensed up. She took a long look at the Imperial legionaries before her. There was a quiet efficiency to their movement. All of their energy was concentrated on the river crossing and the walls of Derdriu. Their eyes were fixed straight ahead, their expressions rigid and determined.

But Lysithea never did like to focus on the faces of the men and women she was about to kill.

_No time to hesitate._

_Three… two…_

Her hands crackled with dark energy.

_One._

Purple orbs of miasma shot forth from her hands and collided into the legions. 

With a roar, the Alliance troops surged from the trees in a swarm of swords and steel that overtook their foes from both sides. Raphael hollered and whirled his axe through the air, leading his battalions into the fray. The Imperial regiments caved in, stunned by the ambush, barely able to draw their weapons before being hacked to the ground.

Lysithea looked to her left — a group of Adrestian archers clustered together and readied to loose their arrows into the fray. She thrust her arms forward, her palms aglow. Wisps of dark magic emerged from the ground and pummelled the bowmen to death.

Raphael raised his axe in the air and hollered to the Alliance troops — ”Come on everyone! Let’s give ‘em everything we got!” They rallied to him and made ready to press the attack.

The Adrestians closed ranks and turned their shields toward the Alliance force. _Damn, they’ve caught on._

_I’ll just have to clear the way._

She ran forward and unleashed her dark magic. The miasma exploded into the Imperial ranks and blew a hole in their lines. Raphael and his force crashed into the Adrestians, cutting down the beleaguered and stunned legions.

She felt a rush of adrenaline — they were going to make it. She drew her Levin Sword and hoisted it in the air. “Press forward! To the river!” 

Lysithea and Raphael led the Alliance surge. It was a sight to behold, this mishmash of men and women from the far reaches of Goneril and Riegan and Daphnel lands fighting side-by-side, cutting through the Empire’s vanguard like a hot knife. She saw Balthus near the front, wielding his claymore, laughing as he sliced through his foes.

With another look toward the river, she saw the ward that protected the engineers. They were so close. Her heart soared. She would make sure the Empire could not reach the walls, not today —

She looked to Raphael. He nodded. Together they raised their weapons. “Charge!”

But they quickly realized they were alone. None of their soldiers ran with them.

They turned around, confused. The Alliance troops were scattered about, fleeing in every direction. The thundering gallop of hooves filled the air — something was attacking from the other side —

A black scythe cut through swaths of Alliance soldiers.

Lysithea gasped. It was the Death Knight — Jeritza. 

His black-clad battalion of cavaliers tore through the Alliance ranks, the high-pitched neighing of their horses mixing in with the screams and shouts of panic.

Raphael roared and charged to their aid. Lysithea hesitated, breathing heavily. _I can take him on. I can do it._

But no, the path to the engineers was clear. She had her orders...

Yet the memories boiled over in the back of her mind. The searing heat of the burning village… The utter madness on the villagers’ faces as they clawed at her with foaming mouths… The mechanical savagery of the Death Knight as he cut down Jeralt’s men...

Rage coursed through her body. She had to put down this beast. She would not let him get the best of her again.

She took a deep breath and sprinted into the chaos.

It was pandemonium. Lysithea ducked and weaved through bodies and hooves as horses and weapons clashed. An Imperial cavalier jabbed his lance through a Daphnel swordsman, a spurt of blood landing on Lysithea’s face. She dove to the ground and crawled ahead. She could see the Death Knight’s scythe rise above the fray, the horns of his helmet scrape against the overcast sky.

_I won’t back down._

She leaped to her feet and raced forward. An Imperial cavalier appeared beside her, stabbing forward with his lance. Lysithea jumped out of the way and blasted him in the face with miasma. He fell to the ground. She looked to her right and stopped in her tracks.

There he was — right in front of her. 

The Death Knight was an awesome sight to behold on the battlefield. His spiked armor and hulking stallion seemed to fill the entire landscape. Terror gripped Lysithea — but only for a moment.

Two Riegan warriors — a man and a woman — stood before the Death Knight undeterred, their swords in hand. They shouted a battle cry and jumped toward him but were felled with one swing of his scythe. Blood flew through the air as they hit the ground. 

Lysithea watched them bleed out, horrified. Coughing and groaning, the two held hands as they breathed their final moments together.

The Death Knight turned to face the next person who stood in his way: Lysithea.

Time slowed as she stared him down. She scowled and pointed her Levin Sword toward him. He sized her up and let out a deep, bone-chilling laugh.

Rage coursed through Lysithea’s veins. _Nobody laughs at me. Nobody!_

She howled with fury and fired a crackling thunderbolt from her sword. It struck him in the chest, knocking him backward. He tugged on the reins of his stallion, caught off-guard by the force of the blow. With a roar, he charged ahead and raised his scythe —

Lysithea stood still, the visage of Death racing toward her. She focused with all of her might and raised her arms in the air. A cluster of dark spikes encircled the air around the Death Knight — he was almost on top of her now — she thrust her hands toward the ground —

The spikes slammed into his horse. The Death Knight bellowed with rage and fell to the ground with a mighty crash. He lay still.

_I did it. I did it…_

She took a step forward and sighed with relief. It was over, at last —

In a single motion, the Death Knight leapt to his feet and lifted his scythe. Lysithea fell backward and landed on her rear. Her sword fell helplessly into the dirt. She looked up, wide-eyed, and stared deep into the blank red eyes of his helmet. The Death Knight raised his scythe high into the air, ready to bring it down upon her head —

_No…_

She threw her arms in front of her face —

_Clang!_

His scythe bounced harmlessly off of a claymore.

“Get the hell out of here, Little Lady!”

Balthus was here. He stood valiantly before her, parrying the Death Knight’s onslaught. He glanced behind at Lysithea and motioned toward the walls of Derdriu. “What are you doing? The bridge is that way! I can handle this guy. Just leave it to me!”

The strain on his face suggested otherwise. Lysithea couldn’t let him face the Death Knight alone. She shouted to him. “No, let me help you!”

He yelled back at her, his voice tinged with fatigue. “Stop! Get a hold of yourself, Lysithea! We’re all counting on you. Get to the bridge!”

He was right. She turned and ran.

_Stupid. Stupid. What were you thinking? You let your pride get in the way —_

She raced toward the bridge. All around her, Alliance troops fell, crushed by the assault of the cavaliers. But she would make her own way — she had to. She would clear a path…

Lysithea raised her hands and blindly fired her magic forward as she sprinted ahead.

She had reached the edge of the fighting. The bridge was getting closer — and the ward was gone! She could still do this —

Searing pain sliced through her calf. A spear had impaled her leg. She screamed in shock and jerked her head to face the Adrestian cavalier that had chased her down.

He yanked the spear from her limb and readied to jab it in her face. “NO!” Lysithea shrieked as fire erupted from her hands, burning the cavalier alive. He let out a bloodcurdling scream as he crumbled to the ground, engulfed in the inferno.

Lysithea tried to get up. _Come on. Come on._

But she could not move. Her leg was useless.

No. This can’t happen. You can’t stop. You’re gonna make it!

Lysithea reached her arms forward, her fingers grasping the thick mud. She would drag herself to the bridge if she had to. She gritted her teeth and pulled, her arms straining as she crawled ahead.

_I’ll kill them..._

She heard the sound of flapping wings from above, growing louder and closer every moment.

_No… I’ll kill them… I’ll kill the engineers…_

Burly arms wrapped around her. Before she knew it, she was hoisted over a man’s shoulder, the cold breeze whipping against her face. What was going on? They were running the wrong way!

“I’ve got you, Lysithea. I’ve got you.” It was Raphael. “Come on. We gotta get out of here. We’ve done all we can.”

She screamed and beat her fists against his back. “Raphael! Turn back! We have to get to the bridge!”

Raphael said nothing. Lysithea squirmed and struggled as angry tears streamed down her face. “No! Where is Balthus? We have to help him—”

“He’s gone. Come on. I told Claude I’d protect you, so that’s what I’m gonna do.”

Lysithea’s heart sank. All she could do was sob. She watched helplessly as Imperial Pegasus Knights descended upon the remaining Alliance soldiers, running through the stragglers with their lances.

She felt Raphael leap into the trees. He barreled through the brush, holding Lysithea tightly. “They won’t find us in here. I’ll get you home, I promise.”

Her blood dripped down the front of Raphael’s shirt. She could feel his grunts as the branches cut against his body, scratching and bruising him as he pressed ahead.

Her mind began to drift. Her head felt so light…

She felt Raphael suddenly tense up and come to an abrupt stop. What was going on?

“It’s you,” Raphael whispered. He sounded surprised. But she couldn’t see —

“Yes, it’s me.”

Lysithea gasped. It was Linhardt’s voice.

Raphael felt her squirm and loosened his grip. She managed to turn around.

Linhardt sat before them, slumped against a tree. His face was ashen, his mind somewhere far away. His palms lay open; he shot tiny gusts of green wind into the air from his hand, playing aimlessly with his magic.

Raphael addressed his old classmate. “So are you going to kill us, then?”

Linhardt shook his head softly. “Kill you? No, I don’t think so. I’ve seen enough death today. That’s why I ran. I’m still a coward, you see.”

Raphael shot back at him angrily. “Then why are you doing this? Why did you join Edelgard? She’s the one who started all of this!”

Linhardt sighed. “No, not you. You can’t understand.”

He looked directly at Lysithea. “You should probably ask this one. She understands what Edelgard fights for. She knows the pain of the Emperor better than anybody in Fódlan.”

Lysithea flinched. His words stunned her. The shadows, the masked figures, the knives, they rushed through her mind… And her hair...

So it was true.

_Edelgard..._

Raphael looked down at her, then back to Linhardt, confused. “I’m not sure what you’re talking about. But we need to get past you.”

Linhardt shrugged. “Then what are you waiting for? I won’t stop you.”

Raphael stared at him for a moment. He nodded to Linhardt and tenderly lifted Lysithea back over his shoulder.

Before he could take off again, Linhardt slowly raised his arm. It glowed with a warm light. Lysithea let out a sigh as his healing magic enveloped her leg. She looked to Linhardt, tears of relief welling up in her eyes as the pain dissipated.

“You have a whole tunnel to crawl through,” he muttered. “You’d best get moving.”

Raphael turned and sprinted into the forest. Lysithea lay dazed, bouncing against his shoulder, thoughts of Edelgard echoing in her mind…


End file.
